


Love Like Ghosts

by vampiremiw



Series: Ordinary World [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Yuri Plisetsky is emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiremiw/pseuds/vampiremiw
Summary: Yuri has lots of stupid awful garbage emotions and he hates it.He likes Otabek, though.





	Love Like Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, I know this is a lot longer than most of my fics and I tried something a little different with the style this time, I hope you all like it!!!!
> 
> Thanks FangirlAndProudOfIt for being a wonderful beta reader <3<3<3

…

 

Yuri is seventeen. He’s probably just won his third gold medal, but they won’t know until all the competitors are done. He’s sitting out in the hallway with Otabek, because he would rather die than watch JJ skate.

 

Yuri is tired. He just wants to change out of his costume and go home. But it’s still going to be a while. He figures he can at least enjoy hanging out with Otabek for now.

 

But that’s a problem too…

 

Otabek is sitting next to him, close enough to share Yuri’s earbuds. Yuri’s phone sits between them and they’ve been taking turns playing songs for each other. The Russian skating team always makes fun of Yuri’s music taste, but Otabek likes it. And some of Otabek’s music is a little too indie for Yuri’s tastes, but for the most part he likes it too.

 

He tries to focus on the music. But mostly all he’s aware of is how damn close Otabek is to him. The edges of their shoes are touching. He’s not sure if he’s glad it’s the only point of contact or if he wishes there were more.

 

“So I’ve been talking with Yakov,” Otabek says.

 

Yuri takes out his earbud, not sure he heard Otabek correctly. “What? What about?”

 

“I told you my coach was thinking of retiring?” he says. “Georgi probably is too, so Yakov said he’d be willing to take me on.”

 

Yuri stares at him. “So… you’d be… coming to Russia?”

 

“That would be the plan. It would be hard for Yakov to coach me from another country.”

 

He doesn’t dare get his hopes up. It’s a nice thought, but things like this never actually work out. Sure, it would be nice to see more of Otabek, not just the few nights of borrowed time around competitions. But this all sounds very tentative and Yuri knows it will ultimately fall through.

 

And, besides, seeing more of Otabek would also mean Yuri might have to deal with some of those damn pesky feelings. Like that great big aching  _ weight  _ in his chest as he watches Otabek walk away from him after every competition. It could end up being like that all the damn time.

 

Yuri realizes he’s been quiet too long. He elbows Otabek. Just lightly, more of a nudge. “Well, I guess if you’re around more that means I can kick your ass at video games more.”

 

…

 

Incredibly, it actually happens. Otabek comes to Russia. Yuri doesn’t see him for the first few days. He’s busy dealing with moving into a new flat and signing papers and all that moving-countries-bullshit. They text each other a few times (“hey asshole, you didn’t die on the plane, did you?” “no i made it,”) but that’s it.

 

The first time Yuri sees him is at practice on Monday morning. He hurries into the rink late, coffee in hand, and drops his shit in the locker room before rushing out to the ice.

 

And there’s Otabek.

 

Otabek standing under the windows of Yuri’s ice rink, with the morning light streaming down onto him and he’s so pretty Yuri wants to throw up. For a second it’s weird, wrong--Otabek shouldn’t be here. This is Yuri’s place. Otabek isn’t supposed to be this close, this easy to reach.

 

Otabek sees him and smiles and Yuri fights the smile that’s trying to spread across his own face. Yes, it’s strange, but he thinks maybe he can get used to this.

 

“Hey,” Otabek calls.

 

Part of him, something inside him, wants to rush up and hug Otabek, tell him how glad he is that he’s here, how he couldn’t even let himself hope this would happen for real because he’s so damn happy right now. But that would be stupid. And besides, he doesn’t want to tell Otabek about his stupid feelings. No one wants to hear that.

 

Yuri settles on something simpler. “You made it, asshole,” he says, and punches Otabek’s shoulder.

 

…

 

He goes to Otabek’s new flat after practice a couple days later to help him unpack. It’s weird being able to just go over to his place after practice, after how long they’ve been friends across national borders and only been able to talk over Skype most of the time.

 

Yuri hopes it will be less weird there once all Otabek’s shit is unpacked, because right now the whole floor is covered in boxes and feels too crowded and too empty at the same time. It gets a little better over the course of the afternoon, as they work their way through some of it, get all the books onto the bookshelf and the plates into the cupboards.

 

“Why did you bring so much garbage with you?” Yuri asks, looking at the huge stack of boxes still against the wall next to the door.

 

“My mom said she’d burn anything I left at her place,” Otabek says.

 

“Ugh, I wish she’d just gone ahead and burned it,” Yuri says. “This is such a pain in the ass.”

 

Otabek stares at everything still left to unpack. “Maybe I should have gotten rid of some things before I moved.”

 

“Wow, you think?” Yuri says.

 

He opens up another box. This one is full of clothes, messily folded. He’s sure he’s never seen that shirt on the top before and for an awful second he wonders if it’s something that was left behind by an ex. He imagines Otabek with someone else and he feels a little sick.

 

He spent too long watching the other Yuuri with Victor and he doesn’t want to do that all over again.

 

Then he tells himself not to be fucking ridiculous. Otabek lived in a different country, of course Yuri hasn’t seen every damn shirt he owns. And it’s not like it fucking matters if it belongs to an ex. They’d be back in Kazakhstan and Otabek is here with him in Russia. He can’t believe how quick he is to get jealous of a person who might not even exist being with a guy who he’s definitely not dating and who probably doesn’t even like him. Not that he’s even sure he likes Otabek that way.

 

“Hey, Beka, where should this go?” he asks.

 

“Oh, I’ll put that in my room,” Otabek says.

 

He takes the box from Yuri and heads down the hall to the bedroom. Yuri trails behind him and tries not to take the opportunity to stare.

 

Otabek’s hot, he’s not going to deny that. Like a “fuck, please push me against a wall” kind of hot. And Yuri’s always sort of been attracted to him. But he’d been able to ignore it a lot better when he wasn’t around all the damn time. He could dismiss it as just being able to appreciate a great butt when he saw one, instead of also appreciating dumb shit like the way Otabek laughs or how he can always tell if Yuri’s upset about something and always thinks to ask him about it.

 

Yuri leans against the door frame and watches Otabek set the box down by the bed. For a second, he thinks about what it might be like to shove Otabek down on the bed and kiss him and--Nope, never mind, he’s not going to think about that. He doesn’t want to spend any time trying to figure out what these feelings all are, why he’s jealous of made-up people or what way he might want to kiss Otabek.

 

He realizes Otabek is looking at him. Shit. Shit, his eyes are pretty.

 

“I’m sick of sorting through all your crap,” Yuri says. “We should do something fun.”

 

“If you help me set up my game consoles, we can play something for a while,” Otabek says.

 

That sounds better. Just hanging out the way they always do. And if they’re playing video games, Yuri doesn’t have to look at Otabek which he realizes is quickly becoming a problem.

 

...

 

Otabek hasn’t been in Russia long, just a few weeks. And it’s gotten unbearable for Yuri to be around him. He  _ likes _ being around him, but that’s the problem. He stares at him constantly from across the room, watching the way the light falls across the angles of his face and the way he moves and thinking about what it might be like to touch his face. Yuri is disgusted with himself.

 

He wasn’t sure before, if he liked Otabek in more than a friendship-way. But now he feels like he’s dying and he’ll lay in bed bitching at his cat about stupid Otabek and his stupid pretty eyes.

 

He hates being this into someone. This might be even worse than his crush on Yuuri Katsuki. Except he’s older now, and he understands these things better, and this time he might actually have a chance which makes this even worse.

 

No no no no no, he can’t let himself think he has a chance here. Letting himself believe he has a chance will just make this so much harder when it all comes crashing down on him.

 

Yuri hates this. He half wishes Otabek hadn’t come to Russia.

 

Because Otabek is there every damn day now, at Yuri’s ice rink, with Yuri’s team. He can’t get away from him. It’s like he never has time to sort his thoughts out. He’s actually trying finally and it’s just not fucking working.

 

They’re in the locker room now. There’s a couple skaters on the other side. So Yuri can have his fantasy of pushing Otabek against the wall and kissing him, but knows he can’t act on it. Which, he guesses, is better. It’s safer to daydream when he can’t do anything about it.

 

Otabek frowns at him. “Yuri, are you alright?” he asks.

 

“Fuck off, I’m fine,” Yuri says.

 

Otabek comes to stand next to him. Yuri is still only tall enough to come up to about his chin. He’d gotten taller over the past couple years, but so had Otabek, the bastard.

 

“You sure?” Otabek asks.

 

“Yeah,” Yuri says. He sits down hard on a bench and starts pulling on his sneakers. They have that strange too-soft and too-flat feeling normal shoes always do after wearing skates all day.

 

There’s loud voices at the doorway to the locker rooms, and then Yuuri Katsuki and Victor enter, Victor’s arm draped across Yuuri’s shoulders, both of them laughing. Yuri frowns as he watches them make their way over to their things. Victor presses a kiss to Yuuri Katsuki’s cheek and Yuri waits for that awful drop in his stomach.

 

It doesn’t hit him quite like it used to. He used to be in love with Yuuri Katsuki. That’s what he told himself. It used to feel like a punch in the gut every time Yuri watched him kiss Victor. But Katsuki’s too old and he’s dumb and annoying, especially now that Yuri knows him better. And besides, there’s Otabek now…

 

“They’re so gross,” Yuri says.

 

“Victor and Katsuki?” Otabek says.

 

“Where the fuck do you even find a boyfriend,” Yuri asks.

 

“I’ll tell you if I figure it out,” Otabek says. He hasn’t had much luck with dating either, from what Yuri understands. It’s not a subject the two of them bring up much, but it’s hard not to talk about it at least a little bit, with stupid Victor and Yuuri always being disgusting around them.

 

“What, there haven’t been fuckloads of hot Russian boys lining up to date you since you got here?” Yuri asks.

 

“No, not really,” Otabek says and Yuri wonders if there’s something pointed about how he looks away.

 

Victor leans in close to say something to Yuuri Katsuki and Katsuki laughs.

 

Yuri makes a gagging sound.

 

“You’re jealous,” Otabek says.

 

“Of fucking course I’m jealous,” Yuri says. “Where the hell do I find a tall, gorgeous boy who wants to make out with  _ me _ ?”

 

Otabek glances down at him and Yuri meets his gaze for a second before he’s afraid he’ll let on too much. He glares off into the distance instead. He knows Otabek is single too and likes guys too, but Yuri also knows Otabek doesn’t like him.

 

Otabek shrugs. “Like I said, I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

 

…

 

It’s hard for Yuri to sort through his feelings when Otabek’s around, but then, about a week later, comes the day when Otabek misses practice.

 

Otabek does show up in the morning, but it’s obvious he’s sick. He’s shivering and sneezing so much his eyes are watering. He makes it all the way out onto the ice, but huddled down in his jacket.

 

Yuri slides up next to him and slams his skates into the wall with a loud crack to get his attention.

 

Otabek looks down at him, blinking like he’s barely aware of where he is.

 

“Go home, idiot, you’re sick,” Yuri says.

 

“It’s just a cold,” Otabek says. “I’m fine.” He coughs.

 

The other Yuuri is just entering the rink behind them and sees the exchange. “Otabek, are you alright?” he asks.

 

“I’m fine,” he says. He coughs again and huddles farther down in his jacket. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so damn pathetic.

 

Yuri knows he isn’t going to be able to convince Otabek to miss a day of practice. He’s tried this before and knows it doesn’t work. But he sees Yuuri Katsuki skating over toward Yakov and figures that’ll be good enough. He tries to stick close to Otabek in case he needs anything, but he lets him go through his warmups like he’s going to stay for the day, even though he’s going at about half his usual speed and it’s infuriating for Yuri to watch.

 

Finally, Otabek tries a simple move and nearly falls flat on his face. He would have if Yuri wasn’t right there to catch him.

 

“Thanks,” Otabek mumbles.

 

“Altin, go home!” Yakov shouts from the other side of the rink.

 

Otabek doesn’t need much convincing by that point. Yuri helps him off the ice and wishes him luck getting home on his own. And, fuck, that leaves Yuri with some space to think for the first time in weeks and weeks. He’s not too happy about it.

 

He goes through practice that day and Otabek’s absence follows him like a strange backwards echo. Yuri’s so used to staring at him every chance he can get, every time he’s not quite facing him and won’t catch him staring. He’s so used to watching Otabek out of the corner of his eye, it leaves a hole in the normal way the day is meant to go.

 

And it means Otabek is just about the only thing on his mind as he goes through his routines again and again. He goes through his step sequences and his jumps and all his awful feelings for Otabek. He thinks about the way Otabek moves on the ice and the lines of his face and the way his hair falls when he hasn’t put gel in it.

 

Yuri can’t ignore this shit anymore. He wishes the ice would melt and suck him under.

 

…

 

It’s miserable once Otabek is back at practice a couple days later.

 

Yuri would already spend pretty much the entire day staring at him, but, shit, now he understands  _ why _ . When they talk to each other, it’s strange. He tries hard to hide that he’s not saying things, but he half wonders if Otabek is catching on.

 

He knows he has feelings for Otabek, but he still isn’t sure what to do about them. He doesn’t know if he should ask Otabek out or tell him he likes him or just kiss him or what. Just kissing him is probably not the best idea. It sure would get his point across without having to figure out how to explain anything, but he has no idea whether Otabek likes him too or not. Yuri goes through the list of things he knows about Otabek; he’s single, he likes guys, he’s also annoyed he doesn’t have a boyfriend.

 

But he doesn’t know what kind of guys Otabek is into. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for in a relationship or any of that shit. That’s not something they talk about. And there’s no damn reason he would be into Yuri. No one ever has feelings for Yuri.

 

Yuri’s sitting on the side of the rink, trying to fix his hair. He’s busy thinking about Otabek and staring at Otabek, though, and his hair is not cooperating. He tears out the sloppy braid and lets out a frustrated growl.

 

“Yuri, do you need help?” Otabek asks.

 

Yuri jumps. He didn’t realize he was so close.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Yuri grumbles.

 

“Are you sure?” Otabek says, looking him over.

 

The last thing Yuri wants right now is Otabek touching his hair and making everything more muddy and confusing in his head.

 

“Yeah, fuck off,” he says. He takes the hair tie from his wrist and launches it at Otabek.

 

Otabek picks it up and hands it back to Yuri before skating away. He’s smiling and Yuri can’t even be annoyed with him for it, because he understands when Yuri wants to be left alone. Fuck, that’s so… He isn’t sure what it is. It makes this so much more about emotions than he ever wanted it to be.

 

He really should do  _ something _ because this is getting ridiculous.

 

…

 

They’re at a party, at Mila’s place, when he finally works up the courage to do it.

 

The party is loud and obnoxious. Mila’s stupid pop music is playing too loudly, Victor and Yuuri Katsuki are dancing to it. Georgi is crying in a corner. Yuri hates these parties. He doesn’t know why he comes to them.

 

The only things this party has going for it are booze and Otabek. And Otabek being there is the same pro and con it always is. It means Yuri gets to see Otabek but it also means he has to see Otabek.

 

The two of them sit together on the couch under the window, a little out of the way of the rest of the party. Yuri’s not quite drunk, but he’s a good two or three drinks past sober, with another untouched on the coffee table in front of him, and he’s frustratingly aware of how close Otabek is. It would be so easy to just lean over and rest his head on his shoulder. Or even to lean over and…

 

He stops himself. That’s a dangerous line of thought, especially with this much alcohol in his system.

 

But he really would like to. He risks a glance over at Otabek. He’s in a perfect profile view to Yuri, with the light from his phone throwing shadows across the sharp lines of his face. And, wow, Yuri is so into him. In that gross “I want to fall asleep in your arms like every night for as long as you’d put up with me” kind of way.

 

Yuri tells himself to shut up. Guys never like him that way. If they did, he wouldn’t have made it to eighteen years old without ever having a boyfriend or ever kissing anybody. It’s a stupid hope and if he lets himself have it, it’s just going to hurt. He knows that.

 

Though, even if nothing would ever work, Otabek sure is nice to look at...

 

Otabek must see Yuri staring because he glances over and raises an eyebrow. Yuri and the vodka in his stomach think quickly and flip through his phone for the picture of his cat he took the other day.

 

He holds it up for Otabek to see. “Look at fucking Sasha,” he says. “He fell asleep in my laundry.”

 

Otabek leans in to see and as he does he rests his arm across the back of the couch, behind Yuri.

 

“Cute,” Otabek says.

 

He settles back into his original position, but he leaves his arm across the back of the couch and Yuri thinks he might have a heart attack.

 

Yuri tries to scroll through his phone for a while, ignoring Otabek and ignoring the party. The two of them had been talking earlier, but then this strange silence fell over them. It’s been like this between them for a while, since Otabek moved there. They used to talk constantly with each other, any chance they could. But now they have all these strange, tense silences. If Yuri didn’t know better, he would say it’s almost like they were both waiting for the other to say something.

 

After a minute he gives up on Facebook, since tonight it’s just flooded with disgusting pictures of the party he’s  _ at _ . He goes for his drink instead. Awful, cheap vodka. Whatever Mila’s spending her money on, it sure as hell isn’t booze.

 

He downs half of it in one go.

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Fuck this party,” Yuri says.

 

He sets his drink down and flops back on the couch. With the movement, he feels another wave of drunk hit him, and he figures now he’s drunk enough to use it as an excuse if he needs one. So he shifts his head a bit, just enough to rest against Otabek’s arm.

 

Otabek shifts and Yuri’s afraid for a moment that he’ll move and take away that one point of contact. It’s hardly anything, the back of Yuri’s head against the sleeve of Otabek’s shirt. And yet something inside him is holding onto that like he’d drown if he didn’t have it.

 

Yuri glances at Otabek out of the corner of his eye. The way the light and shadows fall across his lips almost makes Yuri want to scream.

 

He wonders if they’re both drunk enough now that he can blame it on that, if he were to... 

 

He knows Otabek doesn’t like him. Not like that. He knows nothing will come of it. But maybe just one drunk kiss wouldn’t ruin their friendship. He could at least have that to think about. And then maybe Otabek would know Yuri likes him and he can stop fucking wondering what he should do about it.

 

Otabek gives him a strange look. “Yuri?”

 

Fuck it.

 

Yuri leans in and kisses Otabek. It’s awkward and clumsy and Yuri’s never kissed anyone else so he has no idea what he’s doing. Their lips don’t meet up quite the way he thought they would. There’s no sort of electric spark, no glittery fairytale magic like people had built up kissing to be every time he heard them talk about it. It just sort of feels like smushing his lips against somebody else’s. Still, that feels pretty nice.

 

And then--what the  _ hell _ \--Otabek kisses him back.

 

Everything in his head is screaming and on fire and also completely silent at the same time.

 

Otabek slides his arm off the back of the couch and wraps it around Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri jumps in surprise. Otabek pulls away for just a second, eyes half open, to give him a questioning look.

 

Yuri rolls his eyes and kisses him again. It’s soft and it’s warm and a little messy. He wants Otabek so bad. Not just in like… a sex way. In like a boyfriend way. He puts his hands against Otabek’s chest, which feels nice. It all feels pretty nice. Otabek’s lips moving on his, Otabek’s breath warm on his face, Otabek’s arm around him.

 

Fuck, this is what he wants. He wants this all the damn time. He wants Otabek to fall in love with him and be gross and mushy all the time.

 

But, still, Yuri knows he doesn’t get that.

 

…

 

They don’t talk about it.

 

He sees Otabek at practice on Monday. Stupid Otabek and his stupid gorgeous face and now that Yuri knows what it feels like to kiss him, it’s just so much worse. He spent the weekend trying to convince himself to text Otabek and maybe casually bring it up. He spent a long time lying in bed, phone in hand, just staring at the last texts they sent each other. He was never quite sure how to say “hey, remember how we made out for like a solid twenty minutes on Friday night? That was weird, wanna do it again?”

 

Otabek waves to him when he enters the rink, but they don’t talk. Yuri swore to himself over the weekend that they would talk, but now every time he sees Otabek, everything inside him turns into this swirling ball of anxiety.

 

Yuri tells himself the first competition of the season is soon, so they both need to practice. They can talk later. Maybe during a break, or at the end of the day.

 

While he practices, he tries not to think about pulling Otabek aside later and kissing him again.

 

He doesn’t, of course. The day’s breaks come and go and he spends them bitching about Victor and Yakov and how hard Lilia has him practicing. He sort of hopes Otabek will mention it first, but he doesn’t.

 

Pretty soon they get to the end of the day just the same. Yuri waits for Otabek to mention it, but he doesn’t, and he can’t work up the courage himself. There’s been this weird distance between them all day, this standoffish feel to all their conversations, and he hates himself for it. Kissing Otabek was so stupid; he wonders why the hell he thought that wouldn’t fuck up their friendship. It didn’t solve any of Yuri’s problems at all, it only made this shit much, much worse.

 

Pretty soon the whole week slips by that way.

 

…

 

Before he knows it, they’re at the first competition of the season. Neither of them have mentioned the kiss. Yuri has been telling himself he’ll try to talk to Otabek after the competition, since it would be too distracting before. This not-talking is distracting too, but he’s dealing with it alright now and who knows what will happen if he and Otabek talk. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle it at all if Otabek isn’t into him. He can visualize perfectly the spiral that’s going to send him down.

 

Yuri doesn’t do well. He places third, and with a much lower score than he would have hoped for.

 

He’s sitting by himself now, in the back of the locker room. He stares at the floor, going over everything he fucked up during his skates, over and over in his head. They were stupid mistakes, and he’s angry with himself. He wants to be home. He wants to curl up in bed with his cat and not deal with the world ever again.

 

He knows it’s his own damn fault, for letting this stupid shit with Otabek get to him. He thought it would be more distracting to talk with him before the competition, but apparently he was wrong.

 

Someone sits down next to him. He looks up. Of fucking course it’s Otabek.

 

“You okay?” he asks.

 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Yuri says. He’s not sure if it’s sarcasm or if he’s actually trying to lie.

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

Yuri laughs. Otabek is just about the last person he wants to talk to about it. Although, not talking to Otabek is also kind of the problem here. “Not really,” he says.

 

“Okay,” Otabek says. “You want to grab dinner, then?”

 

“Sure,” Yuri says before he can think. Yeah, having dinner with Otabek is going to make him feel so much better about all this shit. Like a fucking date, except of course they’re still not going to talk about anything. And, dammit, Otabek is so close to him right now. And there’s not really anyone else around. It would be so easy to kiss him again.

 

He stops himself right there. That’s exactly the kind of thinking that got him into this whole mess.

 

Sometimes he can pretend he has control of his thoughts. He can stop himself from thinking about grabbing Otabek by the color and making out with him again, pushing him against the wall and pressing their bodies together and… But he can’t stop himself from thinking how much like a date this is. Walking through the snowy streets of the city on the way to the restaurant, so close their hands keep bumping together. He wants to scream every time it happens.

 

When they get there, the waitress seats them at a booth and he wants so badly to sit down next to Otabek. Yuri’s exhausted and he thinks about how nice it would be to sit there and lean against Otabek’s shoulder.

 

Yuri resigns himself to sitting across from him, where he has to look at his stupid face. It’s not a fucking date. It’s just him and Otabek hanging out. They do this all the time. They’ve done this since the stupid kiss at the stupid party.

 

He leans his head against the wall. “I’m so tired,” he mumbles.

 

“You know you still did well today, right?” Otabek says.

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Yuri says. “I could have done better.”

 

“You placed higher than me.”

 

Yuri rests his head in his hands on the table. He’s too tired to sit up straight. Not that he does anyway. “Yeah, but for me, I still did shitty.”

 

“You had an off day. Everybody does.” 

 

Otabek is so fucking  _ nice _ to him. Yuri makes a disgusted sound. “I’ve been off for like  _ forever _ now.”

 

“I’ve noticed,” Otabek says. “What’s that about?”

 

And Yuri is so glad that he doesn’t just keep trying to tell him everyone has slumps and it’ll be fine. He really likes that about Otabek. And he thinks maybe that means they could actually be good for each other. If a million other things worked out that are never going to work out.

 

“I don’t know,” Yuri says. Because it’s a lot easier to say than “I know exactly why; it’s because I can’t think about anything besides kissing you at the party two weeks ago and how I really want you to be my boyfriend.”

 

This is the problem, though, that counteracts how Otabek usually knows what to say to Yuri that Yuri won’t hate. Yuri can’t fucking say anything about his own damn feelings to him. To be fair, Yuri can’t really talk about his feelings with anyone. There’s all these big awful things inside him, like his mom and all that shit, and there’s the stupid smaller things like when he had that dumb crush on Yuuri Katsuki or his stupid crush on Otabek now, and they all get tangled up together and he can’t get any of them out of him. He  _ wants _ to talk to Otabek about it. But he can just never fucking get the words out.

 

He imagines himself telling Otabek all his stupid shit. How much it hurt when he thought he was in love with the other Yuuri and he had to watch Victor kiss him. How much it helped to talk to Otabek after Yuri’s mom showed up at the rink last year because he still doesn’t feel like he’s thanked him properly, but how he’s still also pretty fucked up over that. He imagines telling him all the things she used to say to him. The things she used to yell at him. How he loves his grandpa, but it just isn’t enough sometimes. How it’s never going to be enough to make up for  _ her _ …

 

He imagines how absolutely unfair it would be to shove all his shit off onto Otabek. It’s his to deal with. He can’t make someone else deal with all of it for him.

 

“Yuri?” Otabek says. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m just tired,” Yuri says.

 

“You sure?”

 

Yuri nods.

 

Pretty soon their food arrives. Yuri scarfs it down and he feels a little more awake with something in his stomach. Otabek shows him a video of JJ tripping over a bench in the locker room and he steals Otabek’s phone to watch it on repeat. He laughs and it borders on hysterical from all the stress and exhaustion and all the dumb feelings he’s working so hard to ignore. But mostly he laughs because fucking JJ faceplanted on the locker room floor earlier.

 

He catches Otabek’s eye and, holy shit, he’s smiling at him. Yuri wants to curl up under the table and die. Just never fucking look at Otabek again.

 

“Can I have my phone back?” Otabek asks.

 

“Hang on, just let me watch it one more time.”

 

Otabek rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. Yuri can’t fucking look at him.

 

Instead, he plays the video again. In the middle, when the horror of realization is spreading across JJ’s face as he realizes he’s falling, Otabek’s phone dings with a text.

 

“You just have the default tone?” Yuri says. “That’s so boring.”

 

“Who texted me?” Otabek asks.

 

Yuri pauses the video and hands the phone back to Otabek so he can see.

 

“Oh, it’s a group message,” Otabek says as the phone dings again. “From Pichit, I think? That looks like his number.”

 

What a strange thing to say. A sudden and horrifying realization strikes Yuri. “Do you not have anyone saved as a contact?” he asks.

 

“I have your name.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

He makes a mental note to take Otabek’s phone later and add names to his contacts. He almost can’t believe he’s in love with this boy… no no no  _ no _ don’t use that word.

 

“The other skaters are meeting up for drinks,” Otabek says. “You want to go?”

 

“Sure,” Yuri says. 

 

“You’re not too tired?”

 

“I ate, I’m good. And it’s not like there’s anything better to do.”

 

“What, I’m not good enough company for you?”

 

“Shut up, asshole,” Yuri snaps but he’s afraid his face is turning red. It’s not flirting, he tells himself. Otabek couldn’t possibly be flirting with him.

 

…

 

They join the others at the bar. He and Otabek sit off to the side by themselves a bit, since Victor and Yuuri Katsuki are good and drunk at this point and neither of them wants to get anywhere near that. Yuri’s had to suffer through that far more times than any person deserves in a lifetime.

 

Yuri knows it can’t be anything good when he sees Christophe wave to them from across the room.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

 

“What?” Otabek says. He turns to look. “Oh, Chris. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

 

“Ugh, I hate him,” Yuri says. He slouches back against the bar, folding his arms as he prepares for the incoming pervy douchebag.

 

“Why?” Otabek asks.

 

“He’s gross.”

 

“Okay,” Otabek sighs.

 

“Ugh, fuck off,” Yuri says to Christophe as he approaches them.

 

“Nice to see you too, Yurio,” Christophe says.

 

“That’s not my fucking name,” Yuri says.

 

Christophe just laughs. Yuri wants to punch him and his gross eyelashes.

 

“So how’ve you been?” Christophe asks with a smirk. “Victor told me about you two.”

 

Yuri glances over at Otabek, wondering if he has some explanation for what Christophe is talking about. Otabek is giving him the same look.

 

“What… did Victor tell you about us?” Otabek asks.

 

Yuri has a feeling this is about to go very badly for him.

 

“That you two are dating?” Christophe says.

 

Yuri just about falls off his stool. Otabek looks between him and Christophe and he can actually feel his all his blood freeze inside his veins.

 

“We are?” Otabek says.

 

“Well, that’s what I heard,” Christophe says. “Are you?”

 

Yuri’s stomach feels like he just got pushed out of an airplane.

 

Otabek doesn’t quite look at Yuri. He looks sort of more down at his shoes. “Are… we?”

 

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “I don’t know? Are we?” Yuri can barely force the words out of his mouth. His brain has stopped working entirely. His face is burning so hot he thinks he might catch on fire.

 

“Um,” Otabek says. “If you want to be?”

 

Yuri wants to laugh. What a ridiculous question. There’s pretty much nothing that he wants more in the whole world. Except maybe to kick Christophe’s ass.

 

“If--if you want to be?” Yuri says.

 

“Ah, maybe I should give you two some time to figure this out,” Christophe says with the voice of someone who had no idea what he was walking into. Yuri gets a sick satisfaction from how Christophe looks almost as uncomfortable as he feels.

 

“Yeah, that would be good,” Otabek says.

 

“Yeah, fuck off, Christophe,” Yuri says.

 

“Well, good luck,” Christophe calls over his shoulder as he leaves. “Remember to use protection!”

 

“Shithead!” Yuri yells after him.

 

It’s only a brief distraction from the incredibly hot and incredibly tall Kazakh boy who might actually want to be his boyfriend and make out with him again who’s still sitting next to him and waiting to talk with him. Yuri wants to shrivel up and die.

 

They both stare at the floor for a moment, neither sure what to do with the strange silence left in Christophe’s absence.

 

Yuri is glad when Otabek is the first to talk, because he has no idea what to say. “So… you actually like me?” Otabek asks.

 

He actually sounds surprised. Like he somehow didn’t get the message when Yuri kissed him before. Yuri wonders how the hell a long, drunken make-out session didn’t get it across that he was into him. But, then, Yuri had also thought that Otabek wasn’t into  _ him _ after a long, drunken make-out session.

 

“What?” Yuri says. “Of course I like you, idiot.” His face is burning so hot he thinks it might actually catch on fire. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor because he thinks if he actually tried to look at Otabek he might explode.

 

“Oh,” Otabek says. “Well, I like you too.”

 

This is it. This is how Yuri dies.

 

There’s about a hundred different thoughts that are trying to form in his head. Mostly things like “holy shit wait this is real, he actually likes me too,” but there’s too many and no space for any one to form coherently.

 

“So can--should we, like, go on a date for real some time?” Yuri asks before he can overthink it.

 

“Sure,” Otabek says.

 

He finally lets himself look up at Otabek and, fucking hell, Otabek is smiling at him. A sort of squeaking sound escapes from his mouth before he can stop it. He buries his face in his hands. He can’t believe he actually made that sound.

 

“Holy shit, you’re so cute.” It takes Yuri a minute to process that  _ Otabek _ just said that about  _ him _ .

 

He actually feels his soul physically leave his body when Otabek pulls his hand away from his face and laces their fingers together.

 

“Ugh, you’re so embarrassing,” Yuri says. He bites his lip to try to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

 

…

 

They don’t talk much, the rest of the night at the bar. They just hold hands and Yuri tries to memorize the feel of Otabek’s skin again his because this can’t possibly be real. He’ll wake up the next morning and it’ll fade away in the daylight. Or, if it stays real, it can only last so long. Pretty soon Otabek will realize what a mess Yuri is, and that he doesn’t really want  _ Yuri _ . Or maybe Yuri will realize Otabek isn’t actually what he wanted. It will end and it probably won’t end well. That’s what Yuri knows.

 

He tells himself to just shut the hell up.

 

Otabek offers to walk him back. Yuri tells him he’s an idiot since they’re staying in the same hotel.

 

The night is cold and it’s snowing. As they walk out the door, Yuri grabs onto Otabek’s arm and hangs close to him, leeching off his heat as best he can. The contact is sort of muffled through their bulky coats, and Yuri’s fingers grow numb in the cold, but he’ll take what he can get.

 

What a strange thought, that he actually has someone he can hold onto like this. The feeling wells up inside his chest, and he pulls Otabek closer to himself. The night is cold, but he feels all warm and he would be disgusted if he wasn’t so happy. He wants to yell to everyone they pass that “hey, guess what, shithead, this is my boyfriend and you can’t have him.” Something like that. He wants to kiss Otabek again… Holy shit, he can now.

 

“Beka?” he says.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Otabek looks down at him and, for fuck’s sake, there’s snowflakes on his eyelashes. It annoys the hell out of Yuri, how fucking pretty he is. He leans up and presses his lips against Otabek’s. Just long enough for it to be soft and warm and for Otabek to make this little sound that melts everything inside of Yuri.

 

“It’s stupid how pretty you are,” Yuri says. The words feel strange in his mouth, laced with a kind of freedom he isn’t used to. That freedom is terrifying.

 

Otabek grins. “What?”

 

“Nevermind,” Yuri mumbles as he pulls his scarf up over his face. He hunches his shoulders and stares at the ground and tells himself Otabek’s going to think it’s stupid if he keeps saying shit like that. Yuri sure thinks it’s stupid.

 

…

 

They make it back to the hotel much sooner than Yuri would like. He liked just walking. He didn’t need to worry about the next part. The part where he’s wondering if he should invite Otabek into his room and what that entails and dammit he really wants to, but he doesn’t know how fast Otabek wants to move with this shit and he doesn’t want to have to talk about it, he just wants to skip to the part where it’s happening if they’re gonna do it.

 

They reach Yuri’s room and Yuri opens the door. The two of them pause in the doorway, snow melting on their clothes and in their hair.

 

“So…” Yuri starts. He isn’t sure where he’s going with it.

 

“Yeah?” Otabek says and he reaches out a hand to run through Yuri’s hair. Fuck, he’s standing really close.

 

“Maybe I can take you out when we get back to St. Petersburg,” Yuri says, bailing on what he was planning to say originally. “We could get dinner or some shit, I don’t know.” He can hardly think with Otabek’s fingers tangled in his hair.

 

“That sounds good,” Otabek says. He slides his hand down the side of Yuri’s face. Yuri resists the initial urge to jerk away from something so soft and he leans into the touch.

 

Yuri was wrong earlier. This… whatever he and Otabek have… is going to kill him before he even has time to ruin it. Otabek’s skin on his, their faces inches away from each other, it’s like the warm feeling of being drunk, when he can feel the alcohol sitting in his stomach, but with a clear head. Well, that’s a lie; his head isn’t very clear right now.

 

He brings his own hand up to cover Otabek’s, where it rests against his face.

 

“What did you say earlier?” Otabek asks. “‘It’s stupid how pretty you are?”’

 

“No.”

 

“Oh,” Otabek says. “Well, I was going to say the same about you.”

 

“Gross,” Yuri says.

 

He tries to fight the smile, but Otabek sees. It’s hard not to when he’s standing over Yuri, barely leaving any space between their bodies. Only enough distance between their faces to look at each other without going cross-eyed. Otabek slides his hand down so his thumb rests against the corner of Yuri’s lips.

 

“Beka…” Yuri starts and it comes out much breathier than he wanted. He planned to say more, but it gets lost and then Otabek leans down and kisses him. It’s the best one so far; he’s sober enough and has enough time to really pay attention. He slides his hands up around Otabek’s neck, pulling himself flush against his chest.

 

Otabek keeps one hand on Yuri’s jaw, and wraps his other arm around his waist. He smiles against Yuri’s lips and that’s not even fucking fair. 

 

They’re still wearing the winter coats, too warm now inside the hotel. Yuri wants to pull Otabek’s off him. And probably the rest of his clothes too, and--oh shit.

 

Yuri pulls away, breaking the kiss. He keeps his hands on Otabek and watches as his eyes flutter open. It gives Yuri a feeling a lot like that ache in his chest when he used to watch Otabek walking away from him at the airport.

 

“Um, I should get to bed,” Yuri says.

 

Otabek seems to be waiting for Yuri to say more and, wow, Yuri wants to ask him to come join him. They wouldn’t even have fuck or anything like that. Not that Yuri would mind banging Otabek. But he’d also be really happy just, like, falling asleep next to him, tangled in each other’s arms…

 

“Sorry,” Yuri says.

 

“It’s okay,” Otabek says. “We should both get some sleep.”

 

“Yeah…”   
  


“We can talk more tomorrow.”

 

“Okay,” Yuri says. He starts to move his hands away, but he thinks better of it partway through and rests them again on Otabek’s shoulders. He still can’t believe they’re standing this close together, that Otabek’s actually letting Yuri touch him like this.

 

Neither of them move for a moment.

 

“So, goodnight?” Otabek says. It’s a question, asking if he really should leave.

 

“Yeah, goodnight,” Yuri says.

 

They both pull away from each other. Yuri feels the loss of the contact like something sharp in his chest. Still, neither of them move and Yuri looks up at Otabek, and Otabek has this look on his face, something so soft and open that Yuri feels a prickling in his eyes. He should… he doesn’t know what he should do.

 

He hugs Otabek. He wraps his arms around him and buries his face against his chest. Otabek hugs him too, and this has gotta be up there on the list of the best hugs Yuri’s ever gotten. 

 

“I’m glad we figured out we both like each other,” Yuri mumbles into Otabek’s coat.

 

“Me too.”

 

When Otabek leaves, and Yuri’s closed the door behind him, he falls face-first onto his bed, buries his face in a pillow, and screams.

 

…

 

Things are busy when they get back to Russia, and it’s a while before Yuri can actually take Otabek out on the date he promised. He apologizes, when they see each other at practice, and Otabek assures him it’s okay.

 

They don’t feel a whole lot like a couple. Not like Victor and Yuuri Katsuki. They don’t do the disgusting PDA thing like those two do. They hold hands, sometimes, when no one’s looking, and steal kisses in the locker room when they’re sure they’re alone. Just small ones, nothing like how Yuri used to imagine pushing Otabek against the lockers and kissing him until the entire rest of the world fades out and neither of them even remember where they are.

 

But they finally have an evening off, and Yuri walks over to Otabek’s flat to meet him there. He’s only been there a handful of times, and still has to pull up directions on his phone to find his way there. He rings the doorbell and bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits for Otabek to answer, watching his breath fog in the cool air and the fading light.

 

The porch light clicks on and a moment later Otabek opens the door. He’s just wearing a t-shirt, so Yuri can see his sleeve tattoos. Those tattoos have got to be one of the hottest things about Otabek and it takes Yuri a moment to remember how to say words.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hey,” Otabek says. “You want to come in a for a minute? I’m not quite ready to leave.”

 

“Okay,” Yuri says, and he follows him in.

 

It’s the first time he’s seen Otabek’s flat since he’s unpacked everything. They’ve been busy between competitions so they haven’t gotten to hang out much. The place feels a lot more comfortable now. It’s cluttered, with piles of papers and CDs lying everywhere. He still has fucking CDs. There’s a record player too, and a TV setup with about eight different gaming consoles, and plants on top of the tall bookshelves. It’s a nice place, lit with a couple soft, orangey table lamps.

 

Yuri drops onto the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, while Otabek disappears back into his bedroom. Yuri can hear him moving around in there, and he feels like he should say something. Make fun of his CDs maybe. He’s not sure. He feels awkward just sitting there. But now too much time has passed to say anything.

 

He takes his phone out so he doesn’t look like he was just sitting there doing nothing like a loser.

 

Otabek reappears, hair slicked back now and a jacket thrown over his shoulder.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuri says.

 

Otabek leans over the back of the couch and kisses his cheek. Yuri grins and gives him a real kiss. Kissing is a lot easier than talking. It’s movement, which Yuri understands a lot better than words, and he doesn’t have to feel stupid for not being able to make conversation.

 

They go out to dinner, though, and that doesn’t work so well in a crowded restaurant. It’s loud and when Yuri can think of anything to say, he has to yell to be heard over the rest of the noise. All he can think of is the kind of innocuous comments he hates, about how he hasn’t been here before and what looks good on the menu and that’s all Otabek responds with either and holy shit what if Otabek thinks this is boring. What if Otabek thinks  _ he’s _ boring?

 

They order their food, and Yuri scrolls through his phone as they wait. He desperately searches for anything he can show Otabek, to break the awkward silence that’s fallen over them. It’s that awful kind where everything around them is so loud, it only highlights how much they’re not talking even more. Yuri wants to die. He wants to melt into a little puddle of acid that’s gonna eat through the booth and leave a weird burnt hole behind. He’d say that to Otabek, if he didn’t have to explain the whole context.

 

He’s almost panicking now, because time is ticking by and he just doesn’t know what to say because what the hell is he supposed to say on a date. He doesn’t know how to go on a date, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He should have thought this through beforehand, but it’s a little late now. This is definitely the worst date he’s even been on. It’s also the only date he’s ever been on. But it’s also the worst.

 

Yuri wishes he had someone to ask what the hell he should do. But Otabek is the only friend he can really ask for advice. There’s always Victor and Yuuri Katsuki too, but he’d never hear the end of it from them.

 

Finally their food arrives. 

 

“Looks good,” Otabek says.

 

“Yeah,” Yuri says.

 

“You look good too.”

 

Yuri feels his face go red. He kicks at Otabek under the table. “So do you, asshole.”

 

Maybe it’s a date, but it’s also just him and Otabek, who’s like his best friend in the world. This being the only date he’s ever been on, it’s definitely the worst, but by default it’s also the best. He tries to tell himself that, and remind himself it’s just Otabek. It’s just his friend who he’s hung out with a million times before.

 

Conversation is a little easier after that. Still awkward, and they don’t talk about anything important, and Yuri feels like he’s slipping over everything he tries to say and he worries Otabek will think it’s weird. But it’s a little easier.

 

…

 

Yuri pays for dinner, since he was sort of the one to ask Otabek out. And since he was the one who paid for dinner, he offers to walk Otabek home.

 

“Shouldn’t I be the one to walk you home?” Otabek asks as they start out toward his flat.

 

“Why, because I’m smaller?” Yuri asks. “That’s so hetero of you.”   
  


Otabek laughs. “If someone tried to mug us, who has a better chance of fighting them off? You look like a kitten and you weigh, what, a hundred pounds?”

 

“Oh, fuck, off.”

 

Otabek lets Yuri walk him home, though, and this feels so much more comfortable than it did in the restaurant. Just them walking together, and Yuri can almost forget that it’s a date and he needs to do things a boyfriend should do.

 

That thought catches him. He knows they’re dating, but he doesn’t know if Otabek is actually his boyfriend. That’s probably something he should ask about at some point. But, also, that’s a problem for Future Yuri to deal with.

 

“You want to come in for a bit?” Otabek asks when they get back to his flat. “Warm up before you have to walk all the way home.”

 

“Why? I’ll just be cold again when I go outside.”

 

It occurs to him how much this all, him and Otabek, feels like that. It’s all good and warm here, but at some point Otabek’s going to realize that he doesn’t like Yuri so much in a boyfriend sort of way, that Yuri’s too much for him to deal with, and Yuri will be outside in the snow again.

 

He shoves that thought away too. That’s another Future Yuri problem.

 

“Well, then, do you just want to stay so we can hang out awhile longer?” Otabek asks.

 

That’s a little better. “I guess,” Yuri says.

 

He wouldn’t usually define hanging out as Otabek pushing him against the door as soon as he closes it and kissing along the side of his neck while they fumble with the zippers on each other’s coats. But he’s not complaining.

 

They toss the coats haphazardly on the chair next to the door and Yuri presses himself against Otabek, now with only the thin fabric of their shirts between them. He wraps his hands around Otabek’s hips, feeling the sharp outlines of his hipbones. And he feels like he’s going to melt as Otabek kisses along his jaw, his breath coming faster and shallower with each press of lips to his skin. Finally Yuri can’t take it anymore and he kisses Otabek, mouth to mouth. They move against each other, and then Yuri runs his tongue along Otabek’s lip. He likes the sound Otabek makes.

 

Otabek opens his mouth and their lips meet together again. Tongues is new. Yuri likes it. It’s sort of gross and slimy, but Otabek tastes like the coffee and cake they had after dinner and it’s a warm sort of contact, closer than anything else so far.

 

Then Otabek pulls away and a jolt of fear shoots through Yuri’s stomach as he wonders why, if he did something wrong.

 

“You wanna move to the couch?” Otabek asks.

 

“Sure,” Yuri says. He relaxes a bit. He realizes there’s spit on his face. “Ew,” he says, as he wipes it away with his sleeve.

 

Otabek laughs a little, as he sits down on the couch. Yuri drops down beside him, before he can think about it too much and freak himself out. He sits there awkwardly for a second, then he slings his legs across Otabek’s. He grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

 

“So,” Yuri says. “You come here often?”

 

What a stupid thing to say. Otabek laughs, though, and Yuri can feel the vibrations of it. “I live here,” he says.

 

“Shut up,” Yuri says.

 

“Make me?”

 

Yuri rolls his eyes. He gives Otabek a quick kiss on the mouth, but he also wants to try this neck-kissing thing. He likes being on the receiving end of it, but Otabek sure seems to like to be the one doing it too. He keeps Otabek’s hand in his, but reaches up with the other to the opposite side of his neck. Yuri slides his lips along the side of Otabek’s face, light enough to make him shiver, then kisses at the skin along the side of his neck.

 

Yuri sees what Otabek likes about it. Soft skin with traces of stubble and now Otabek is the one who’s getting all breathy and, wow, Yuri likes that. He has another idea, too.

 

He opens his mouth and sucks at the skin, light at first, and then a little harder. Otabek tightens his grip on Yuri’s shoulder. Then Yuri sinks his teeth in. He didn’t think it was hard, but Otabek gasps.

 

He pulls back, surprised. “Shit, sorry,” he says. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Otabek looks dazed. “No, no,” he says. “Sorry.”

 

Yuri stares at the wall. He wants to keep kissing Otabek, but it makes him nervous how fast this is moving. He wonders how this is going to be anything they can sustain, if they can’t even talk to each other at dinner. And he  _ likes _ Otabek--he likes him so much. He doesn’t want to ruin it by hooking up but not talking, or some stupid shit like that. He isn’t sure what to do about any of this.

 

He glances at the clock, on the stove in the kitchen. It’s getting late.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he says, “I should get home. Yakov’s gonna kill me if I’m late to practice tomorrow.”

 

Otabek glances behind him. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah, you should probably… head out.”

 

Yuri climbs off his lap and goes to grab his coat. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,” Otabek says. “See you there.”

 

Yuri lets himself out, and it’s cold outside alone.

 

…

 

Yuri actually gets to practice a few minutes early. It’s a bright morning as he makes his way up the stairs and into the rink, with the sun glaring off the snow the same way the lights reflect on the ice. It’s getting on toward the end of winter, but the snow doesn’t show signs of melting any time soon. 

 

Someone taps him on the shoulder and Yuri just about jumps out of his skin. He had his headphones in and didn’t hear Otabek come up behind him. Yuri yanks the earbuds out and scrambles to pause the music.

 

“Morning,” Otabek says.

 

Yuri’s spent all the rest of last night and all of this morning thinking about making out with him. Now, seeing him again, he wants to either throw himself into Otabek’s arms and melt against him or run away screaming. He’s not sure which.

 

He settles on a simple, “Hey.”

 

Otabek falls in beside Yuri as they make their way inside and he laces their fingers together. It feels strange, holding Otabek’s hand in a place where their teammates are probably going to see. Yuri isn’t sure how he feels about it, but he doesn’t pull away. He reminds himself most of the Russian skating team saw his and Otabek’s drunken makeout session on Mila’s couch, the stupid shit that started all of this.

 

He wonders for a second if he regrets that. He doesn’t regret being with Otabek, but he wishes it had happened differently. Like a spill-your-guts kind of love confession, one where they could be upfront with each other. He wishes he hadn’t been so stupid.

 

Yuuri Katsuki and Yakov are talking in the entryway when Yuri and Otabek enter the rink. Oh  _ fuck _ , Yuri had thought about the shit Mila might give him if she saw him with Otabek, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that  _ Yakov _ might see them holding hands. He feels all his insides shriveling up and he quickly lets go of Otabek’s hand.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Otabek frown.

 

Yakov must have seen, but he simply nods at them.

 

Yuri shuffles farther away from Otabek.

 

“Good morning!” Katsuki calls to them.

 

“Morning,” Otabek replies.

 

“Altin, do you have a minute?” Yakov asks and for a second Yuri is terrified he wants to talk to Otabek about this thing he has going with Yuri. “I never got an answer about your short program.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Otabek says.

 

He follows Yakov over toward the rink, glancing briefly over his shoulder at Yuri.

 

Yuri is left alone with Katsuki. Shit… He should just head to the locker room and get ready. But he shouldn’t be fucking rude, he should say something before he leaves, like good morning or some shit, since he still doesn’t hate Katsuki as a person, he only hates his fiance. But Yuri’s never quite sure what to say to him, because he isn’t used to dealing with way older guys he used to be really into who he’s pretty sure see him as some sort of surrogate son or nephew or some shit. It’s a weird relationship.

 

“So, Otabek’s your boyfriend now?” Katsuki asks, watching Otabek walk away, before Yuri can figure out what the fuck to say or if he should just leave.

  
“Oh,” he says. “Maybe?”

 

Katsuki furrows his brow. “Maybe?” he repeats. “What does that mean?”

 

That’s exactly what Yuri is wondering. He kissed Otabek a lot last night, but he still can’t answer that stupid question.

 

“I don’t know, it means we’re dating or some shit,” Yuri says. He cringes at how defensive it sounds.

 

“Huh,” Katsuki says. “Maybe you should clarify that?”

 

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business, piggy,” Yuri snaps. “I don’t need dating advice from someone who’s willing to marry Victor.” He feels a little bad for how mean it sounds when it all comes out of his mouth. He reminds himself he’s over Katsuki and it’s not worth his time to be mad at Victor.

 

Katsuki just brushes it off with a shrug. “All I’m saying is relationships are a lot harder if you don’t talk to each other.”

 

“I talk to Otabek,” Yuri says. He glowers at Katsuki and wishes he could melt people with his stares.

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Katsuki says, holding up his hands.

 

It pisses Yuri off that Katsuki’s trying to placate him. It pisses Yuri off that this is all so damn complicated. He likes kissing Otabek and all that shit, but it was so much simpler when all he had to do was pine over unattainable people and complain about how he didn’t have a boyfriend. Just stare at guys he knew he could never kiss.

 

He glances through the windows that look from the entryway into the rink and he sees Otabek there, turned mostly away from him. There’s so much space between them.

 

Yuri will ask him later if he’s his boyfriend. He will. He’s going to do it.

 

…

 

Guess what Yuri doesn’t do.

 

They go out again on the weekend, and then the next weekend too. They make out again in Otabek’s flat both times. Both times, Yuri makes up an excuse to go home before it goes any farther than that. They don’t say anything substantial or with any real meaning to each other.

 

Yuri lays in bed in the dark alone and complains to Sasha the cat about how stupid he is and how stupid Otabek is and how he really wants to sleep with Otabek in every meaning of the phrase. He doesn’t know why he keeps leaving before he can do that. No, he knows. It’s the same thing from before. He doesn’t want to just hook up and have that be it. He doesn’t want to just fuck, he wants to fall asleep next to him and be friends like they used to and kiss all the time and talk all the time too.

 

They’re caught in this awful in-between thing, now, though. He really did ruin their friendship when he kissed Otabek at Mila’s party. It just didn’t happen in the way he was afraid it would.

 

At least it’s Saturday night, so the next day is Sunday and he won’t have to--doesn’t get to--see Otabek at all. They decided not to go out because, despite how boring hanging out has gotten, they still stay out later than they should on a weeknight. Yuri won’t see him again until practice on Monday and then they can spend the whole next week… doing this.

 

…

 

The next morning, Yuri wakes up around noon to a whole series of missed calls and texts. He scrolls through them groggy and half awake so he doesn’t get the full gist of it. The big takeaway is that the air conditioning is broken at the rink and it won’t be fixed at least until tomorrow afternoon.

 

That means no practice the next day. Nothing to wake up early for, no reason not to stay up too late tonight.

 

The last text is one from Otabek: “you want to hang out?”

 

Yuri texts him back. “Come to my place, don’t wanna get out of bed.”

 

Sending it feels risky; inviting Otabek to his place, saying he’s still in bed. Otabek hasn’t come to his place since they started dating. Started whatever the fuck they’re doing. Yuri pets Sasha nervously while he waits for Otabek’s response.

 

“You’re fucking lucky you’re a cat,” Yuri mumbles. “Cats don’t have to worry about dating. Do you understand how lucky you are?”

 

Sasha snorts and readjusts himself on the pillow.

 

“You don’t understand, do you?”

 

Yuri’s phone vibrates and a wave of panic washes through his stomach. He tells himself it’s stupid to be this nervous. It’s just Otabek.

 

That’s the problem, though. It’s Otabek.

 

The text just says “okay.” A moment later it’s followed by “When?”

 

Yuri texts back “idc, whenever.”

 

…

 

About an hour later Otabek texts that he’s there and Yuri tells him to let himself in. Yuri loses his damn keys about once a week so he gave Otabek a spare one. Yuri’s still in his pajamas and still hasn’t gotten up. It’s before three pm on a Sunday, so it’s still unreasonably early to be out of bed. Only shitty awful people like Victor get up that early.

 

Yuri hears the front door, followed by shuffling sounds which are presumably Otabek taking off his coat.

 

“Yuri?” Otabek calls.

 

“In here,” Yuri responds.

 

Otabek appears in the doorway to his bedroom. He’s wearing a t-shirt so Yuri can see his damn tattoos again and he wants to trace every line of the stupid geometric patterns, all the way up to where they disappear under his shirt. He doesn’t know where the lines all end, but he sure would like to find out.

 

Yuri sits up, yawning as he kicks the blankets off himself. He does his best to flatten the stupid cloud his hair is making since he hasn’t brushed it yet, but he knows it doesn’t do any good. Otabek looks so cool and he looks like a fucking dandelion or some shit.

 

Otabek just stands there and blinks a couple times. They’ve shared a hotel room twice during competitions and Yuri stayed with his family for a week last summer so it’s not like Otabek hasn’t seen him in the morning before. Yuri didn’t think it would be this awkward to not have gotten up before Otabek got here.

 

“What?” Yuri asks. “Shit, I know my hair is awful in the morning, you don’t have to stare.”

 

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Otabek says. “Um, I brought you coffee. Do you want it?” He holds up the two cups of coffee in his hands to show Yuri.

 

“Oh hell yes,” Yuri says.   
  


He makes no effort to move though, because it’s still far too early to get out of bed on a Sunday. The problem is Otabek doesn’t move either.

 

“Can I come in?” Otabek asks.

 

“Yeah?” Yuri says, unsure why Otabek has to ask him.

 

Otabek enters cautiously, picking his way slowly through all the shit strewn across the floor. Yuri has been meaning to clean his room for a while now, or at least clear a path from the bed to the door, but he’s been a little preoccupied.

 

Something crunches under Otabek’s foot as he missteps. “Aw shit,” he says.

 

“It’s fine,” Yuri says. “If it was on the floor, it’s not important.” That’s not quite true; most of what Yuri owns is on the floor of his bedroom.

 

Otabek stops and leans against the half-empty shelving unit that Yuri has set up as a kind of room divider and he hands over one cup of coffee.

 

Yuri takes it and downs as much as he can in one swallow. “Shit, that’s good,” he says. It’s from the place up the road they both like, and it has the disgusting amount of cream he likes it with. Otabek knows his order perfectly.

 

Yuri frowns up at Otabek. “You can sit down,” he says. He shuffles over to the side to make a space on the bed for him.

 

“Oh, okay,” Otabek says.

 

He sits down awkwardly, keeping a bit of distance between himself and Yuri.

 

Sasha the cat meows loudly, then jumps off the bed and darts for the closet.

 

“Oh, I scared him,” Otabek says, distressed.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Yuri says. “Piece of shit cat. He likes you, he just pretends not to.”

 

“Really?” Otabek asks.

 

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I like you, though. It doesn’t matter what my cat thinks.”

 

“I like you too,” Otabek says and his lips quirk up into a smile.

 

He balances his coffee carefully as he leans over to press a kiss to Yuri’s cheek, followed by a second one to Yuri’s own lips. It’s so easy. Yuri wishes it could always be this easy, just saying stupid mushy shit to each other and kissing and being together like this. He wishes things hadn’t gotten so awkward. They really should talk to each other.

 

“Beka?” Yuri says.

 

“Yeah?” Otabek asks.

 

And he was about to ask about the boyfriend thing. He really was, he was actually going to do it this time. The words are all there, lined up and ready to come out of his mouth. But, shit, what if Otabek isn’t ready for that or doesn’t want to or… He doesn’t know quite why he doesn’t. Not knowing is easier, he thinks. It was all so much easier when he didn’t know whether Otabek liked him or not.

 

So instead of asking he just kisses Otabek instead. A long, hard kiss, where Yuri bites at his lip and Otabek’s breath goes in sharp. He thinks  _ this _ is better than when he didn’t know if Otabek liked him or not. He doesn’t like that line of thought, though.

 

They’re still holding the stupid coffee cups. He breaks away and sets his on the nightstand. Then he pulls Otabek’s coffee away from him and puts it there too.

 

This is better. He can put his hands on Otabek’s arms now, and he does it, he starts tracing the lines of the tattoos like he’s been thinking about for a long time. Before he can get very far with that, though, Otabek has his hands in Yuri’s hair and he’s pulling him in for a kiss again. A little awkwardly, Yuri shuffles himself so he’s straddling Otabek. He didn’t realize that would make him taller, so Otabek has to lean up to keep kissing him. He’s a little surprised at first, but he likes it.

 

It’s… a lot, too. This is a lot more than they’ve done before. Lots of tongue and him on Otabek’s lap this way and Otabek’s hands on his hips. But it’s nice and it sure is easier than talking.

 

Otabek breaks away for a second to look at him. The eye contact is strange. Then Otabek’s eyes drift past him to the cups of coffee on the nightstand.

 

“Which is mine and which is yours?” Otabek asks, frowning.

 

“You literally just had my tongue in your mouth,” Yuri says. “Does it matter?”

 

“No, I guess not,” Otabek says.

 

And then his tongue is in Yuri’s mouth again. And then Yuri’s kissing his jaw again and then he’s biting him and this time he doesn’t stop when Otabek gasps. And now they’re pressed against each other, thighs touching and chests touching and they’re moving against each other. And, aw  _ fuck _ , he rocks his hips against Otabek’s and that’s a whole new sensation there. And shit they keep going with that and the kisses fall away and they’re just clinging to each other as hard as they can and there’s hot breath on Yuri’s neck and the sounds he’s making are so stupid but he almost doesn’t care. He thinks he hears his name slip out of Otabek’s mouth and then he’s gone and lost in it for a few seconds that feel much longer and….

 

“Shit,” he breathes out as he lets himself sink into Otabek’s arms. He thinks that did it for Otabek too, though he’s not entirely sure.

 

“Shit,” he says again, not so lost in the moment this time. He climbs off Otabek and stares at him for a moment.

 

“Are you okay, Yura?” Otabek asks and he looks worried. “Shit, was that okay?”

 

Oh no, Yuri doesn’t want him to think anything like that. “No, yeah, it was good,” he says. “I liked it. Don’t worry.”

 

“Okay,” Otabek says. He studies Yuri’s face for a moment and Yuri has to look away. “Is something else wrong?”

 

Yuri bites his lip. No, no no no, he can’t keep doing this.

 

“No, it’s just…” he starts. “We’ve been doing stuff like that, which I like, but.. I don’t even know if you’re my boyfriend.”

 

“What?” Otabek says.

 

Yuri’s so tempted to just stop. Brush it off, say it was nothing. But he can’t. He can’t keep doing that. Otabek is too important.

 

“We never, like, specified anything,” Yuri says. “I don’t actually know if you’re my boyfriend or if we’re even official or we’re only dating or what.”

 

Otabek looks like he’s thinking hard for a moment or two. “Oh,” he says. “I--yeah. I thought you were my boyfriend, but I don’t know. You’ve been sort of distant since we started…” He trails off and Yuri figures he doesn’t know what to call their relationship either.

 

“We can… we don’t…” For a second, Yuri isn’t sure how to string together all the words he wants to say. Movement, touch, they’re so much easier. But this isn’t the time for that. “We just… did sex stuff and that’s fine. It was great. But things got so weird between us. It’s weird that you have to ask to come in my room after I invited you here. It’s like… I feel like I can’t talk to you how I used to anymore.”

 

That’s not quite right. It doesn’t get across everything he meant.

 

“Why not?” Otabek says.

 

“I don’t know,” Yuri says. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He buries his face in his hands, but, dammit, he’s not going to cry. Even though it’s so easy to cry when he’s this frustrated with himself. He has to think. He has to know how to explain all this.

 

That’s it, right there. Some things click into place for him.

 

“I’m so  _ much _ ,” he says. “I’m awful and loud and, fuck, I’m so angry most of the time. I’m scared it’s too much to push on you. I’m scared I’m gonna scare you away.”

 

He looks up and Otabek’s waiting for him to say more. He doesn’t know if he has more to say, but then he’s talking again before he can stop himself.

 

“You’re like my best friend,” Yuri says. “And I want you to be my boyfriend too, but I’m scared I’m too much as a boyfriend. But I’m  _ also _ scared to not talk to you. Like, just kiss and do stuff like that with you, because then I’m scared we’re not going to be friends anymore and it feels like it’s all going to fall apart on me either way.”

 

“It’s gonna fall apart on you?” Otabek asks.

 

He moves like he’s going to try to take Yuri’s hand or something, but he stops himself and Yuri’s glad he does.

 

“Things usually do,” Yuri says. “I want you to be my boyfriend  _ and _ my best friend still and that seems so fucking selfish and I don’t know how we’re supposed to balance that.”

 

Otabek just looks at him for a long time. Yuri can’t guess at what he’s thinking, but he’s as nervous as he’s ever been around Otabek. It’s like all the different kinds of wanting to die and wanting to melt so he can ooze away through the floorboards all at the same time. He thinks it would be perfectly reasonable if Otabek didn’t want to do this anymore. It’s been a pretty shitty excuse for a relationship so far.

 

Finally,  _ finally _ Otabek speaks. “I don’t know how we’ll do it either,” he says. “I guess we’ll just have to figure it out. Because I want to be your boyfriend too, and also keep being your best friend.”

 

“Really?” Yuri asks, frowning at him.

 

“Yeah,” Otabek says.

 

Relief washes through Yuri like exhaustion and he flops back onto the bed. He doesn’t understand why Otabek is so willing to stay with him, but he’s glad. Shit, he likes this boy so much. If they’re both willing, Yuri will put whatever effort he has to into this.

 

Otabek looks down at him, then he lies down next to Yuri so they’re face to face. “Also, for what it’s worth,” he says. “I don’t think you’re too much. You’re loud and you have a lot of emotions, but I like that about you.”

 

“Oh,” Yuri says.

 

He’s not sure what else to say, but he’s already said a whole lot so maybe, for now, that’s okay. There will be plenty of time later for all kinds of other conversations, like trying to understand why Otabek likes him so much or finally thanking him for how much he helped Yuri with his family problems last year. He grabs Otabek’s hand and Otabek leans over to kiss his cheek.

 

“Gross, you’re so mushy,” he says. He squirms away, but he smiles.

 

Sasha the cat jumps back onto the bed and settles himself between the two of them. Otabek smiles at the cat, and then at Yuri.

 

“I’ll be your boyfriend if you’ll be mine,” he says.

 

“Sure, why not?” Yuri says and he doesn’t sound as casual as he meant to. That’s okay, though, because it’s Otabek and he can talk to Otabek. He wonders if maybe, later, he’ll be brave enough to ask if he wants to spend the night. He thinks about staring at Otabek at practice for so long, and kissing him the first time at the party, and he still feels a little stupid for it, but maybe he’s okay with the way this all fell into place after all. He thinks about Otabek with the fucking snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. And of course now he’s looking at Otabek laying next to him in his bed. All the stupid shit he did got him here in the end, so maybe it’s okay.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> “Altin, do you have a minute?” Yakov asks and for a second Yuri is terrified he wants to talk to Otabek about this thing he has going with Yuri. “We need to go over the something about your skating program thing my boi.”


End file.
